American Idol: Uninspired
Previously – Tiny Ramiele was sent back to waitressing at the sushi shop.
Seacrest has all the fame victims lined up on stage, as if in front of a firing squad. Get Seacrest, first! I want to see a laser sight on his dome! He talks his usual opening bullshit. Yadda, yadda, yadda! I just want to see what Paula’s on this evening. Probably Sharpie markers. Snort away, Miss Paula!
The guy who runs Ford is there. Money gets you anywhere. Who buys Fords? Though I miss my tiny powder blue Escort. That thing cooked. Tomorrow is Idol Gives Back. It’s a way for Idol to feel a lot better about subjecting us to terrible music and making scads of money off it. So tonight’s theme is “inspirational songs.” I hope David Archuleta sings the Dead Kennedy’s “Too Drunk To F*ck” or Millie Jackson’s “Muffle That Fart.”
More Idol, after the jump!
Paula’s tittays are living large tonight. Get me a pail, we got milk! Michael Johns, the Aussie, is up. My friggin’ DVR cut out last week but our readers tell me he did well. I’m still sorta bored. He’s doing Aerosmith’s “Dream On.” He better kill this because I’m from Boston and I will judge. I will judge anyway, but now there’s a reason beyond my personality disorder.
Randy is so eh. He’s as boring as some of these contestants. And he also sounds like he has a surfboard jammed up his ass. Michael is defending his song choice and talking about dreams. Randy tells him that this show is not about dreams. Finally, someone understands me. It’s about nightmares. Thank you, Randy. You kinda just blew the whole concept and their marketing scheme out of the water – but so be it.
Is that Sinbad in the audience? Sinbad? It’s a Different World! Paula and her breasteses liked the whole thing. Randy doesn’t like when Michael impersonates a rock star. Or a musician. Ryan Seacrest implies that Simon is wearing a wigpiece. Those two had a thing once, and someone couldn’t finish at one point and the other mocked them and there’s some resentment. Queens can be cruel. Shut up! I was on medication and allergic to his cat!
Syesha Mercado’s here. She was close with the departed Ramiele. She’s been worked very hard. They were close because Syesha could step on Ramiele’s head to reach things on top of the fridge. Syesha is singing a Fantastia song. We get the usual “I believe, dreams come true, I like clichÃ©s” bullshit. Syesha stares longingly into a blank iPhone. That’s the laziest Apple product placement I have ever seen. All that technology and they’re shilling it as a device for deep reflection or to check lip liner. Does Steve Jobs know about this? BUY IPHONES! Oh Syesha, just sing.
Syesha does some Celining. Syesha doesn’t like Randy’s damning with faint praise and she’s questioning his ass. Paula seems kind of aware tonight. I think the pain from having her breasts shoved up under her wattle is hurting her sober. Is that Foxy Brown in the audience? I thought you were in prison, girl! Way to break out! Stoned pigeon Jason Castro is doing that Hawaiian ukele version of “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” Panties get a little moist. Can he just move onto this Jack Johnson-lite career now? If that doesn’t work out, there’s always one of those shops on the beach that sell “tobacco” bongs. Though I can see him getting a gig modeling Hollister. So many opportunities!
Randy was turned on by the performance, because he lives in an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog in his head, unaware that it’s designed for fags. Simon dug it, too. Is Jason wearing my grandmother’s sweater? I hope not. She’s dead. KRISTY LEE COOK IS NEXT! Hell bitch. Look at me; I’m so hot and wholesome at the same time in my glittery halter! I love you, Midwest! STOP. HER.
Kristy Lee Cook is wishing my roof would collapse on me to put me out of my misery. She’s singing a song by Martina McBride. Oh you couldn’t wrap your skank ass in the flag this week? I’m surprised she hasn’t found a way to superimpose herself into pictures storming the beach at Normandy.
Randy’s still talking about pitching a tent. Paula thinks it was Kristy’s best evening ever. So does Simon. He’s been surprisingly kind this episode. Maybe Ramiele gave him a going away present. Simon has some Kenny G. guy on his lap. I don’t know what’s going on. David Cook’s favorite band is Our Lady Peace. No hypochondria this week, folks. Good lord, it was just the vapors. Whatever he’s doing this week sounds terrible and that bandleader in heaven jacket isn’t helping either. This douche is trying to work America so bad. Did they have to use the defibrillators on him? Paula’s ready to unzip his fly and get to work. Simon has my opinion. He hated the jacket, too!
Carly’s here. She’s doing a Queen song. I hope she upgraded her ensemble this week because Simon can get catty. Uh, she didn’t. In fact I think she’s working a Milla Jovovich top from Tarjhay. Simon’s got his emery board out and scritch-scratching to readiness. She is working the boobers tonight, so that might help her. Carly’s getting low grades. Simon LIKED the outfit. What? He thinks she was angry, though. Maybe it’s because you told her that her clothes suck last week! Carly says she saw Simon’s face, and it ruined her. Well that surly mug could ruin anyone.
David Archuleta and his gay kindergarten ass is sitting in the audience. The producers are hip to the fact that he puts tweens in seats. I can’t wait until he’s looking like Leif Garret thirty years from now. I’m sorry, squeaky clean annoys me. That’s not the world. Seacrest talks about AIDS. Ryan Seacrest cringes and puts his chair over his head. David picks Robbie Williams’ song “Angels”. He should have nixed the piano because he looks like it’s a trial to play and sing at the same time. Randy Jackson better talk about tent-pitching again because I’m hearing camping problems. David’s father who beats him when he messes up is in the audience. David better run. Nope, Randy loves it. The tweens are screaming to have David’s babies. Paula’s letting the tweens do her judging for her. She just snorted a rail and she’s letting the coke trickle hit the back of her throat so she can’t speak right now. There is some totally obsessed tween in the audience screaming for Archuleta. Taser her loud ass!
Seacrest is in the audience, menacing some elderly security lady. He asks her if they’re up for Keno this weekend. Oh, so all old black ladies do is play Keno? Orly? Maybe afterwards they can go to church, and fan themselves and have a big family reunion with Cicely Tyson! What do you know? Maybe she’s into soap box derby and auto-erotic asphyxiation! Brooke White’s here, and looks like she escaped from her prison in her interview. By the way? I HATE “You’ve Got A Friend.” I love me some James Taylor, but I despise this song. Brooke’s wearing some drapes and didn’t wash her hair for this performance. She’s falling apart. Watch her talk back a lot when the judges tell her she sucks.
Brooke’s crying and showing everyone her family. She’s losing her mind. Brooke has no clue what to do with Simon calling her a “walk in the park.” Well, it could have been men in the bushes for illicit sex in the park!